Chapter 14 Cynthie
The pranks continue over the next week, with each side drawing in new recruits.
My personal favorite effort is when Hilary, in the costume department, agrees to let out the seams on Jack’s sleeves by an almost imperceptible amount, and then makes a (carefully scripted) innocuous comment about his arms getting skinnier.
That evening I catch him doing hundreds of press-ups and I cannot contain my glee.
In retaliation, Jack manages to get the team at craft services on board, and Hannah and I show up one morning to find my entire trailer has been wrapped in clingfilm. This act of disloyalty really stings—betrayed by the same people who have been lovingly feeding me bacon sandwiches every morning.
I feel like Michael from the second Godfather movie.
“I know it was you, Pam,” I say sadly to the guilty-looking woman inside the food truck. “You broke my heart. You broke my heart .”
Jack snorts from his seat at a nearby table, where he is busy wrapping his mouth around a sausage sandwich with what looks suspiciously like extra sausages inside.
I turn to glare at him, but he only shrugs. “Just wondering if Pam should be worried about finding a horse’s head in her bed.”
“Eh?!” Pam looks startled.
“That was the first film,” I say, my tone withering. “You’re confusing your Godfathers .” I turn to Pam. “And I would never do anything to hurt you. I know you were taken advantage of by a heartless charmer.”
“I made her an offer she couldn’t refuse,” Jack says, doing an irritatingly good impression of Marlon Brando, and I have to swallow my answering gurgle of laughter.
“He’s just such a nice boy,” Pam says, clearly the victim of a vicious delusion. She smiles fondly at Jack, before turning back to me. “And he did say that you’d propped a bucket of ice water over his trailer door the day before…”
“Mmm.” I take a moment to relive that particular incident while Jack observes me sourly. His shrieks of outrage were so delicious.
For the rest of the cast and crew, the practical jokes are a fun way of blowing off some steam. Everyone has joined in with cheerful enthusiasm, and Jasmine and Logan seem to have adopted a benevolent “don’t ask, don’t tell” policy. For Jack and I, however, this isn’t a game—it’s war.
Despite the fact that my costar and I are still at each other’s throats on a regular basis, I have to say that the filming has been going well.
Every day I feel more comfortable, more confident.
I make mistakes, of course I do, but they no longer feel like they’re going to bring the whole film crashing down around me.
It’s like Hannah said: as time slips by, the whole process starts to feel less overwhelming, more manageable.
I’m learning an insane amount, and the work leaves me buzzing.
I feel, for the first time, like I’m exactly where I’m meant to be.
Or, at least, I did… until they put me on a horse.
“IT’S REALLY QUITE HIGH UP, isn’t it?” I say breathlessly to Hattie, later that morning, while she looks utterly at ease. She’s resplendent in a blue riding habit with a lot of gold frogging, and smiles at me from under her bonnet.
“You get used to it.”
“Okay,” I murmur doubtfully, as my horse—Domino—tosses her head about in a way that indicates she knows precisely how incompetent I am, and she is doing me a tremendous favor by not simply shaking me off her back.
“A filly needs to know who’s in charge,” Rufus says with a leary wink. “Horses are like women: they need a firm hand and a good hard ride every so often.” He laughs loudly at his own joke while I smile wanly and Hattie rolls her eyes.
Rufus might look like a gentleman right now, but I’ve been warned by several female members of the crew to make sure I’m not left on my own with him. I believe handsy is the euphemism.
We’re currently waiting for the crew to finish setting up for the shot, and thankfully, Domino seems content to stand still. I’m not sure what I would do if she decided she wanted to go off exploring because I don’t think she’s buying the idea that I’m in charge.
“Honestly,” Hattie continues in the mellow, musical voice that has made her a star in the world of audiobooks, “I’ve been making period dramas since long before you were born, and you spend an awful lot of time up on these lovely animals.
The trainers are wonderful, and they only use very well-behaved horses.
Plus, they’re shooting all your galloping bits using a stunt double, so it’s going to be very sedate.
Just sit back and try to think of her as an armchair with a tail. ”
“This chair has a mind of its own,” I say. “Literally.”
Domino makes a huffing noise that sounds like agreement.
“See,” I exhale, tentatively patting her neck. “Clever girl.”
“I’ll admit it’s tricky getting the hang of side saddle.” Hattie looks amused. “But in some ways it’s better that you haven’t ridden before; this way you don’t have to get used to the difference.”
“I suppose,” I reply, still nervous. “But it would be nice to have a bit more of an idea of what I’m doing.
” The couple of training sessions I squeezed in between working with the choreographer and the movement coach passed in a blur.
Also, then I was wearing jeans and—crucially—a helmet.
I doubt my fetching little bonnet is going to do much to protect my fragile skull if I fall off. Oh god, don’t think about falling off.
“Nothing to it,” Rufus reassures me heartily.
We’re interrupted then by the appearance of two other riders who are clearly not having the same crisis of confidence. Simon, the actor playing my fiancé, looks as at ease as Hattie—he sits, tall and lean, an elegant figure on a dappled gray horse, but I barely glance at him.
Jack.
Jack is a full sentence.
It’s deeply, deeply unfair that there is obviously some thousands-year-old instinct, some biological hangover in my DNA, that means the sight of him, strong and in control on the back of a magnificent, midnight-black horse, makes all my bones feel like they’re dissolving.
My eyes linger on his muscular thighs, clad in light breeches, before moving up to take in the rigid torso, the broad shoulders in the perfectly tailored jacket, the strong hands negligently wrapped around the reins, the rakish tilt of his hat casting his face in interesting, angular shadows.
There’s a flash of white teeth.
“Careful, Taylor. You’re drooling.” His amused voice does a fantastic job of breaking the spell.
“I was admiring the horse,” I say coldly.
“Sure you were.”
I grind my teeth together. Surprise, surprise, Jack Turner-Jones is a very experienced rider who looks incredible on a horse.
Apparently, it’s one of many skills his parents deemed necessary from a young age.
These, I have discovered in the last couple of weeks, also include fencing, speaking fluent French, and playing the violin.
This is quite a contrast to the special skills that Hannah and I mastered in our early years—performing a flawless Macarena; being able to play Britney Spears’s “Toxic” on a recorder (self-taught); knowing all the words to “The Real Slim Shady.”
“You know we’ve got a late start tomorrow,” Simon says as we watch one of the unfortunate runners try to herd Logan’s sheep into position with middling success.
“I know .” I sigh, deeply, happily. “A late rise!” The days have been punishingly long, more often than not starting at 6:00 a.m. and then lasting into the early hours of the evening.
“So we’re all headed to the pub tonight,” Simon continues. “You in?” He smiles hopefully at me.
“A night out actually does sound great,” I agree. I have to admit: I thought that there’d be a lot more partying on a film set, but by the time we limp back to Alveston Hall in the evenings we’re all exhausted. “I’ll ask Hannah, Patty, and Liam.”
“Cool.” Simon nods.
“I already asked them,” Jack butts in, his mouth curling up in satisfaction.
“What?”
“I already asked Hannah. And Patty and Liam,” he repeats slowly, as if I’m having trouble keeping up.
“Why would you invite them?” I straighten, my voice laced with suspicion, and I feel Domino’s muscles ripple underneath me, a reminder that she’s not—in fact—an armchair.
I go as still as possible, and Domino doesn’t move any farther.
When I’m sure it’s safe, I glance over to the side, where Hannah usually sits, behind the wall of camera equipment, but she’s not there.
“I don’t know where you get the idea that I don’t get on with people,” Jack muses. “I happened to run into them a few minutes ago, and I invited them out. It’s not a big deal.”
“But you must have known they’d invite me ,” I say slowly.
Jack only shrugs, but I leap on this like a cat on one of those little laser pointers.
“Why, Jack,” I bat my lashes, beaming wide. “If you wanted me to come along, you could have just asked.”
Hattie smothers a laugh.
“It’s not their fault if they have terrible taste in friends,” Jack says, bored.
“Anyway,” Simon puts in, clearly trying to smooth out the tension. “It’ll be great. And I’m glad you’re coming.” He smiles at me, and I smile back.
When I glance over at Jack, he is glaring darkly at the pair of us.
“Okay, gang,” Logan shouts then. “Sorry for the delay, but we’re ready to run through now.”
He and Jasmine come and stand in front of the five horses.
“So, as we practiced, we start off with Jack, Hattie, and Rufus at the back with Simon and Cynthie in front. After Rufus’s last line, we should be approaching the curve in the path, which is where Simon and Jack change places, so that Jack and Cynthie can finish out the scene,” Jasmine says, gesturing with her hands as she talks.
“We’re going to be doing multiple shots, so don’t worry too much about the choreography running smoothly, just make sure you’re on the mark for your lines. Got it?”